


Somethin' Kinda Wonderful

by yespolkadot_kitty



Category: Narcos (TV)
Genre: F/M, Smut and Fluff, Songfic, soft smut, vulnerable Javi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:13:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25934965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yespolkadot_kitty/pseuds/yespolkadot_kitty
Summary: You and Javi finally consummate your relationship. A Tumblr request.
Relationships: Javier Peña/Reader, Javier Peña/You
Kudos: 34





	Somethin' Kinda Wonderful

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mourningbirds](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mourningbirds/gifts).



  
  


**JAVI: What about tamales? Come over at seven?**

**YOU: See you then x**

You knock on his door at a minute to seven, smoothing down the skirt of your dress. It takes a few seconds and then Javi pulls the door open, a question sketched over his handsome face, and he sees you and his whole body relaxes. His shoulders drop, his chocolate eyes warm, crinkle at the edges, and in that instant he’s so painfully handsome that your chest hurts.

“Come in,” he says, and you do.

He has The Drifters playing on the speaker set in the corner of the living room, and something smells  _ fantastic, _ oregano and slow roasted meat and spices.

“Javi, wow.”

He ducks his head for a second, uncomfortable with the praise. “Well, it’s one of the three recipes I make regularly enough for it to turn out good.” He stops by the stove to poke at the slow-cooking pork, and oh, it smells  _ divine. _

When he turns back, you lift your face for a kiss and he obliges, and he tastes of the same spices you can smell from the pot, and the faint tang of strong coffee, and the ghost of a cigarette he probably smoked on the balcony, because he says he’s quitting, and most of the time, he means it.

“Missed you,  _ mijita. _ ” He licks into your mouth and you open more for him, sliding a hand into his tousled dark curls. His hair is always so soft, feels so good. This man feels good everywhere, from the little tickle of his moustache on your lips to the slide of his fingers against yours when you hold hands, to the texture of his cheek against your palm when you touch his face, saying goodnight at the door. He’s a puzzle of a man, light and shadows, tough but soft, and you want to know him in every way he’ll let you.

“I missed you, too.” You break the kiss and then peer into the pan. “Can I have a taste?”

“Sure.” He grabs a wooden spoon and breaks up the silky-soft pork some more, then scoops up a small amount, offers it. It lies in the shallow of the spoon like a prize and you open your mouth, catching his gaze and winking salaciously.

Javi snorts and blows on the meat before pressing the spoon to your lips. The meat is so tender you hardly need to chew, the perfect mix of spices waking up your senses and tingling on your tongue.

“Wow. You’ve been holding out on me, Pe ñ a.”

He quirks up a brow at your unintended double meaning. You’ve been seeing Javier for two months now. After the first month, his well-meaning partner, Steve, took you to one side and told you about Javier’s, ah,  _ conduct _ with informants.

You already knew. After the second date, Javi had sat you down on his couch, necked an  _ awful _ lot of tequila and spilled his guts to you.

_ You make me feel, mijita. You make me feel like the man I could have been, before. And I need you to know about me. _

And after he’d confessed it all, the prostitutes, the dark places he sometimes has to venture into for the greater good, you told him that you wanted the shadows as well as the light.

But despite that, neither of you have moved beyond heavy petting, and that one memorable night when you got him off with your hand in his truck. When you kissed him afterwards and thought that you wanted him inside you, and it’s been a long, long time since you’ve thought about that.

“About that,” Javi begins, and then a timer dings from below you.

He sets the spoon down and gestures for you to stand back while he opens the oven, takes out the tamales; they’re golden.

“I think we’re ready to eat. Why don’t you sit down?”

“You don’t need a hand?”

Javi smiles crookedly. “Give me the illusion of competence.”

You laugh because Javi is very good at anything and everything that involves his hands. And tonight you want to find out just how good he might be at…. Other things.

“You could pour the wine?”

Grabbing the bottle he jerks his chin at, his hands full of dishing-up prep, you tuck two glasses under your free arm and carry the lot through to the little dining area. 

Javi follows you, barefoot, sets out the plates and the pork and the tamales so you can fill your own.

You lift your wine glass. “Cheers. To discovering more of your repertoire, Agent Pena.”

He clinks his own glass obligingly. “To you discovering you like my  _ very _ limited culinary skills.” His smile falters a bit as he sips and your chest hurts.

You know, from that night he spilled all his secrets, about Lorraine and how he left her. How ashamed he feels, but how he feels that it was unequivocally the correct course of action.

You know that he hasn’t had a  _ serious _ relationship since her, and you know that is why Steve gave you The Talk.

Reaching across the table, you brush your fingers over his knuckles. His skin is rough in places, scarred in others, and soft in the secret coves of his body that he’s only let you touch seldomly. Thus far, anyway. “Javi. I like everything about you.”

He turns his hand over and you tangle your fingers with his.

“Let’s taste this! I want to dig in.”

The tamales are  _ good. _ Spicy and a little sweet, the meat silky on your tongue, the red wine a perfect match for the thick, strong flavour of the pork. It all goes down smooth. Javi tells you about his work, what he can share anyway, and you tell him about yours. The wine loosens your tongue, and as you take another sip you watch Javier over the glass. His eyes are dark, they look bottomless, soulful. The word  _ smoulder _ was invented for this man. His hair curls just so over the nape of his neck, and he never met a shirt he couldn’t loosen just one button more.

You help him clean up after dinner, try and do the dishes, but he cups your elbow. “Leave it. Come sit,  _ hermosa. _ ”

The music has looped around, and the Drifters croon  _ Some Kind of Wonderful _ as you reach the sitting area. The moon is fat tonight, round and shiny, and moonlight kisses Javi’s face, touching on the hook of his nose, the crease in his bottom lip like an artist wanted to leave his signet there, the proof of a work to be proud of. 

“Javi?”

“Mmm.”

“Will you dance with me?” You loop your arms around his neck, toy with the thick, dark hair at his collar. 

“Not much of a dancer,” he says quietly, his lip curling, but you hear the self-scorn in his husky-edged voice. The voice you hear in your dreams.

You smile at him reassuringly. “It’s basically dry-humping standing up.”

Javi chuckles. “I knew you were a romantic at heart.”

His hands settle at your hips and he holds you steady as you sway with him to the music, a classic, endlessly soulful.

_ Any time my little world is blue _

_ I just have to look at you _

You whisper along with the lyrics against Javier’s cheek, feel him start to relax again. When his shoulders drop, you know he’s back to the Javi you’ve drawn out over these past weeks. The Javi you think you’re teetering on the cliff edge of falling in love with.

_ There's so much I wanna say _

_ But the right words just don't come my way _

Javi sways with you. You think about making some remark, in jest, about how he should be a fantastic dancer, having hot Latin blood and all that, but you bite your tongue. You don’t want anything to ruin this quiet, close moment you’re sharing.

“ _ Te adoro,” _ he murmurs against your hair as the song starts to fade. “Baby. I wanna take you to bed.”

Everything settles inside you. “Please, Javi.” You cup his face and kiss him, tasting the wine and the spiced tamale meat on his tongue, and he kisses you back, urgently, the evidence of his desire for you growing against your belly, and you press into him.

“Fuck,” he bites off. “I need you.”

You slide one hand down his arm and hold his hand, lacing your fingers. “Take me to bed, Javier.”

Those cocoa-brown eyes go hot and dark, and he drags you against him, mouth plundering yours, his lips hot and urgent, and you let your tongue dance with his. He half walks, half pulls you into the hall and down towards his bedroom. You continue kissing as you move, your hands starting on the buttons of his black shirt. You have never known a man to rock a button-up as well as Javi Pe ñ a does.

The buttons are a bit fiddly when you can’t see them, but with every one you slip free, your knuckles brush more of Javier’s golden skin. You pause at a crescent-shaped scar on his left pec, long-healed, almost white.

“Work gets rough sometimes,” he says, his voice dropping half an octave. 

You bend and kiss the scar, and hear Javi take in a ragged breath.

“You don’t have to do that,” he murmurs.

Standing again, you push the shirt off his shoulders. “I want it all, Javi. Your darkness and your light. Your pain, your joy. Please.”

He growls low in his throat, a sound that goes right to the place between your legs, and then he scoops you up and lays you on the bed, crawling on top of you. There’s a sort of awkward moment where he figures out where his elbows go in the tessellation of your bodies, but then his mouth is hot on yours, and you comb your fingers through his hair, arch up under him, press against the hard line of his cock through his jeans.

“Fuck me…” he hisses.

“I’d really like to,” you laugh.

Your words seem to spur him into action and he starts nibbling at your neck, still pressing his hips into you. You tug at his jeans, wanting to feel him  _ closer. _ You manage to get a hand between your bodies to pull at the zipper. It catches and you rub a ticklish spot on his belly with your thumb, making him laugh against your neck.

“Ticklish, Agent Pe ñ a?”

“Breathe a word of this to Steve and-” he’s cut off when you finally wangle the zip down, and, no underwear, he falls into your eager hand, and you wrap your fingers around the hot hardness of him. “ _ Fuck, _ ” he says instead.

You stroke him the way you know he likes it from that one frantic, fumbling time in his truck by moonlight, and a mix of English and Spanish falls from his lips. He kisses at your neck sloppily, thrusting into your hand, and then he bats your fingers away.

“ _ Mijita, _ I wanna make this good for you.”

You let your hand be moved, quirk a brow at him as you place your palm on the bed. The sheets smell like him and it is  _ divine. _

Javier slips the buttons on your dress out of their eyelets one by one, parting the fabric, kissing each new inch of skin he reveals. It’ll be the first time he’s seen you naked, and your pulse trips. Yes, you’ve done this before but not with Javier, and he has so much  _ experience, _ and-

And then Javier flicks open the front clasp of your bra and puts his mouth on you and you lose your train of thought.

He laves at your nipple expertly, his moustache tickling at the sensitive skin of your breast, and you thread your fingers into his hair., murmuring his name.

“Just like that, baby,” he whispers, and starts to give attention to your other breast. Just when you think you’ll die right now if he doesn’t move on, he starts peppering moustache-tickly kisses down your stomach, and you instinctively spread your legs as he moves closer and closer to where you’re burning red-hot for him.

“ _ Javi. _ ”

“Patience,  _ hermosa.” _ He licks at your inner thigh. 

“ _ Javi, _ ”  __ you keen.

His breath ghosts over you through the barrier of your underwear. He flicks his tongue right where your clit is, but you barely feel it because of the fabric. You’re about to dig your own thumbs into your underwear but thankfully Javier gets there first, sliding the lace-edged garment down your body and dotting kisses down your thighs as he works it over your feet. You lean up on your elbows and watch as he moves back up, settling between your legs, the smile on his face nothing short of pure, unfiltered  _ sin. _ And you want him more than you want your next breath.

“It’s time for dessert, baby,” he breathes, and you grin at his ridiculous quip, but then he puts his mouth on you and you cannot recall your own name.

His tongue is wet and warm as he traces circles on your clit, drawing the little bundle of nerves between his lips and then adding his fingers. You clench your muscles around his digits and he curses against you, his breath fluttery but not enough. You fist a hand in his hair, gritting out his name.

“I got you, baby,” he assures you, and then he licks into you and curls his fingers, and you’re flying, sobbing his name like a prayer.

You hear the rustle of a condom wrapper and the shucking of clothes, and then Javier’s back on you, a knee between your legs, kissing the taste of you on to your own lips.

“Wanted to undress you,” you sigh, stroking your hands down his body, settling on his hips.

“Next time,  _ hermosa. Te necescito, _ ” he groans, positioning himself. Your gaze rakes down his body, sunkissed skin, his curling, dark hair, the happy trail from his navel to his sheathed cock, hard and ready for you.

You curl your arms and legs around him, dig your heels into his butt. “Please.”

Javier slides a hand under you and lifts your hips slightly, and then he’s inside you in one slow, smooth thrust, and your inner muscles clench reflexively. The stretch is  _ bliss,  _ and he moves and you sigh with the pleasure and perfection of it, of him. “Javi.”

“Just like that, baby,” he whispers against your neck, one hand bracing himself, the other under your hips, lifting you as close to him as you can possibly be as he thrusts in and out, making love to you, sweet and hot. You bring his mouth to yours and kiss him, your tongues dancing. He tastes of you, and wine, and just a like of the dinner spices, and you never in your life want to go back to not kissing Javier Pe ñ a.

“Touch yourself,  _ hermosa, _ ” Javi commands in a harsh whisper, and you do, keeping one hand in his hair and sliding the other down your body. At first it’s a bit tricky with him thrusting harder now, but you’re already sensitive and you can feel your muscles fluttering within a few moments.

Javi bites off another curse against the curve where your neck and shoulder meet, and his hips falter, his thrusts becoming sloppier, and you lean up and let your teeth kiss his neck. He has  _ such _ a biteable neck and you don’t take enough advantage of that.

He hisses out in pleasure and then rolls your bodies without warning so you ride him. You brace your hands on his chest as he holds your hips firm enough to leave bruises, fucking up into you as you lift and lower your hips.

“ _ Fuck, _ baby,” he grates out, and then his face contorts in pleasure as he comes hard, and you bend and kiss him through it.

Javi sighs your name as you spread over him, closing your eyes in tired pleasure.

“Meant to do that differently,” Javi says at length.

You smile into his skin, tracing lazy patterns on his shoulder. “If you did it any better I don’t think I’d have survived.”

His chest puffs out in pride for a second; his hand strokes idly up and down your naked back. “No. I mean…. Candles, wear nice clothes, the whole deal. Make it special.”

The vulnerability, the chink in his armour, makes your heart clench. “Javier. It was perfect.  _ You’re _ perfect.”  _ I think I love you, _ you don’t add. It would feel trite to add it now, in the afterglow. But one day soon, you think, you’ll both be ready.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
